Comes with the Territory
by idearlylovealaugh
Summary: An overheard conversation causes Hermione Granger, over-thinker extraordinaire, to worry that she might not have what it takes to be an Auror's spouse. Butterbeer, self-reflection and straight talk from Ginny Weasley remind her of what she has known all along.


_Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling, whom I am most assuredly not._

The bell over the door of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions tinkled as a young woman stepped through the door, carefully closing the door behind her. It was nearly six o'clock, but the late-day sunshine still streamed through the shop windows and danced on the brilliantly colored robes artfully displayed in the shop's foyer. As the young woman moved to the reception desk, a plump cheerful face appeared around the doorway leading to the fitting rooms.

"Hermione, dear, is that you? Ah, it is! I'm just finishing up with someone, we've been ever so busy today - all you June brides!" The friendly face of Madam Malkin beamed at her indulgently. "Would you mind waiting a few minutes? Just running a touch behind..."

"Of course," Hermione answered. "It's no trouble."

"Lovely, shan't be a tick." With a smile and a wink, Madam Malkin disappeared into the dressing rooms.

Hermione moved to one of the lurid aquamarine plush chairs some distance from the desk and sat down, carefully depositing her sensible work satchel on the ground beside her. A quick check of her watch affirmed that she had time to spare. She had prudently left plenty of time for this last fitting of her wedding dress before she was supposed to meet Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron to go over the wedding day schedule. _My wedding day_, she thought, enjoying the excited flutter in her stomach at the words. Her gaze rested briefly on a mannequin in a set of dazzling tangerine robes that seemed to have been frozen mid-twirl before sighing and reaching for her bag. If she was going to be waiting, she might as well get something done. She pulled out a few files and started scanning them.

Hermione had been working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for over a year, but her day-to-day work had changed very little from the day she was hired. She spent most of her days reviewing complaints lodged tens, sometimes hundreds of years previously, gathering evidence of mistreatment and noting possible witnesses (assuming they were still alive). It was important work - and also, she reluctantly admitted to herself, deadly dull. Most complaints were extremely straightforward and had been satisfactorily resolved decades ago. Her superior, a perpetually tired- and vague-looking old wizard, barely acknowledged her work before tossing it into a bottomless pit of a filing cabinet with a level of dust on it that made Hermione itch. She couldn't help but feel she could be doing more. If she had a more senior position, the ear of someone with a little more authority... but she was loathe for anyone to think that she was trading on her name, or her friendship with Harry Potter, the Chosen One. She must be seen working her way up from the bottom, even if it meant mindlessly wading through ancient paperwork day after day, and even though there were magical creatures still being oppressed and mistreated at this very moment...

"Can I help you, Miss?"

Hermione was startled from her thoughts by a young woman in deep violet robes and shockingly pink nails who was regarding her with an uninterested expression. Her nametag read "Deirdre".

"Thank you, but I'm already being helped," Hermione answered politely.

"Oh, good," the girl answered, seeming rather relieved to be spared the trouble of helping her. She fiddled half-heartedly with the sleeve of a robe on display before dropping into a chair behind the desk and resting her chin in her hand, staring vacantly into the middle distance. A moment later a girl in matching violet robes exited the fitting rooms and joined her, leaning on the desk with an exaggerated groan.

"Merlin, I am so sick of brides!" she whinged. "I've just had to re-pin the shoulder on a robe _three times_, just because it hung a bit lower than the other one. You could barely notice! For all I know, it could be her shoulders that are uneven!"

Deirdre shook her head at this shocking demand. "_So_ unreasonable."

"And anyway, she could just cover it with a shawl."

"Michelle?" Madam Malkin's voice called from the depths of the fitting rooms.

The second girl straightened. "Back in a minute, just grabbing some more pins!" she called back in a chirrupy voice. "Ugh," she continued to her friend in a distinctly different tone, slumping back on the desk and showing no inclination to move. "Speaking of brides, did you know Karen'll be one soon?"

"Karen?" asked Deirdre questioningly.

"You know, Karen Edding? From McFlinty's? Her Auror bloke proposed!"

Up to this point, Hermione had been making a valiant attempt to avoid overhearing the girls' private conversation, which they had been conducting at full volume. But either the dullness of the files she was reviewing or the mention of a familiar name caught her attention and she gave up trying not to listen. She knew Karen Edding - she had just recently become engaged to an auror that Ron worked with at the Ministry. Karen worked at the apothecary in Diagon Alley and Hermione thought she seemed like a very sweet girl. Just this past Friday night she and Ron had been to Will and Karen's engagement party and had quite a good time. Hermione flushed as she thought back to that night. In fact, fueled by rather a lot of champagne, the festive atmosphere, and happiness about their own fast-approaching nuptials, they had continued the celebration back at their flat where they had...

Well. It had been a very good night.

Karen's engagement was apparently news to Deirdre.

"_Did_ he now?" she exclaimed, rather snidely. "Well, more power to her. I mean, you know what they say about the Auror Department, right?" she asked with a smirk.

"I know. More like _Adulterers_ Department," Michelle giggled in response.

Hermione felt her face go hot again, now for a very different and unpleasant reason. What were these girls talking about? Did they recognize her, know about Ron? She wished she could block out the voices, yet had a morbid curiosity to hear the rest of their conversation.

"At least, that's what they say," Michelle continued, giving no hint as to who "they" might be. "But really, they can't _all_ be that bad."

"No, it's true!" Deirdre insisted. "My girlfriend Patty works in the Charms Approval Office on the same floor, so she should know! She's been there simply _ages_ \- seven months, at least. And she says all the receptionists talk about it."

"Well, I guess it makes sense," Michelle conceded, convinced by this unimpeachable testimony. "I mean, they are off on those missions all the time, spending lots of time away from home - they must get lonely. And the job is _so_ dangerous, they're practically risking their lives every other day. They probably need the release."

"And everybody knows that's what they're like, so if you marry one, you know what you're in for," Deirdre finished authoritatively. "It just comes with the territory."

Hermione's stomach had been steadily twisting in knots as she listened to the girls prattle on. Suddenly the sunny dressmaker's shop felt stiflingly hot and she had a desperate urge to escape the high-pitched voices. She stood abruptly, shoving the files back into her bag.

"I'm s-so sorry," she managed to stammer at the girls, who looked to her in surprise, having completely forgotten there was any such thing as a customer in the shop. "I'm late to meet someone... would you please tell Madam Malkin I'll come back tomorrow for my fitting? I'm so sorry," she repeated, hastily slinging her satchel over her shoulder and pushing through the door, letting it slam behind her.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"... and Fleur will be there to do your hair by eleven, providing Gabrielle arrives before then to watch Victoire. And then after that..."

Hermione stared ahead as Ginny continued to tick off the necessary wedding day preparations, only half-listening to her Maid of Honor. She absently spun her glass of butterbeer, making a circular wet mark on the table in front of her as her thoughts chased each other through her head.

"...if that's OK with you. Hermione. Hermione!"

Hermione looked up at Ginny, who was frowning at her expectantly. She flushed with guilt. "I'm sorry, Ginny!" she said contritely. "Please go on. I'm listening."

"You're not," Ginny retorted. "Which really wounds me, Hermione, seeing as I put together this whole lovely wedding day schedule for you, knowing how much you love schedules! Come on, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Hermione declaimed.

"Rubbish."

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione continued stubbornly.

"Hermione." Ginny stated flatly. "I just suggested we make your wedding a double bonding ceremony with Aberforth and his goat and you didn't bat an eye. Now, what's on your mind? Are you having second thoughts? Because Ron is my brother, and I can understand that."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. Nothing like that."

"Than what?" Ginny pressed.

"It's silly. Just something I overhead at the dress shop," Hermione replied evasively.

"Woman, you are infuriating. _What_?"

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her. "I just happened to overhear two of the employees at Madam Malkin's talking about Will and Karen - you know Will, that Ron and Harry work with?" Ginny nodded. "They were talking about their engagement, and they were being really catty about it, " she frowned, "wishing Karen luck because everyone knows that all Aurors cheat on their spouses! And going on and on about how they all do it, every one of them, and how anyone marrying an Auror should just accept it because it 'comes with the territory'..." Hermione trailed off as Ginny continued to watch her with an expressionless face. It really did sound ridiculous when she said it out loud. "I told you it was silly," she finished defensively.

"That's what you're worried about?" Ginny asked doubtfully.

"No! Not really. I mean, you don't think any of that is true, do you?" Hermione answered, worrying a napkin and avoiding Ginny's eye. Her dismissive tone utterly failed to mask the anxiety with which she asked the question.

"Hermione."

"Well, I mean, I have heard rumors to that effect before." She continued, examining a crack on the table.

Ginny sighed. "OK, well, setting aside for a moment the fact that my boyfriend is also an Auror and therefore probably two-timing me-"

"Ginny! I'd never think that Harry..."

"You said all of them, remember?" Ginny interrupted severely. "Setting aside that, you know that 'they'" she mimed with air quotes, "all say a similar thing about Quidditch players, don't you? That we've all got a bit of stuff tucked away for every away game and every tour. That it's just part of the lifestyle," she plowed on. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Of course not!" Hermione cried, looking at her friend in alarm. "I would _never_ think that!"

"But that's what _everybody_ says, isn't it?" Ginny demanded.

"I might have heard something like that," Hermione admitted grudgingly. "But of course I dismissed it as entirely untrue."

"And it is! Mostly. I mean, sure, there are some Quidditch players that cheat on their spouses. And some Healers probably, and some shop girls! There's bad apples in every profession, Aurors included. But Hermione," she scoffed, "do you really think there is _any universe_ in which Ron would ever be unfaithful to you? Or even less likely, that he would think you would somehow expect it as part of his job and think you would be OK with it?" Ginny paused for emphasis as Hermione continued to look determinedly at the table in front of her. "No," she concluded, answering her own question. She considered Hermione shrewdly. "As you well know, of course. So now tell me, what's _really_ bothering you?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. The chink of glasses and the pleasant hum of conversations of nearby patrons swirled around them, oblivious to her distress. "How do you do it?" She finally asked quietly.

"Do what?"

"Stay home while Harry goes off on missions. Wait for him, knowing that he's in danger every minute he's gone. Stay behind while he risks his life. Carry on with life as usual."

"Practice," Ginny offered with a wry smile.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she looked up at Ginny, knowing that she was referring to their abortive seventh year at Hogwarts, a perpetual sore spot for her friend. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up..."

"Forget it, I was joking." Ginny dismissed her concern with an airy wave of her hand. "Mostly," she added with serious sort of smile.

Hermione looked down at her hands again, her thoughts in turmoil. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being stupid," she began softly, "but that ridiculous conversation just made me think about how difficult it's been whenever Ron is away, how terrified I become, and how it's likely to be worse once we're married and start a family and..." she trailed off miserably.

It was true. The first time that Ron had left for a mission as a fully-qualified Auror - a proper, overnight mission with a real target and real danger - Hermione had been a wreck. She could barely concentrate at work although she desperately needed the distraction. Once home, she had cleaned the already-tidy flat she and Ron shared twice - first by magic and then again with muggle cleaning supplies. She was actually glad when Crookshanks knocked over a potted plant, simply because gave her something to clean. That night she had laid curled up in the center of their too-empty bed, trying to name all the headmasters of Hogwarts in reverse-chronological order, or the dates of the major and minor goblin rebellions, or anything to keep herself from thinking of the danger Ron could be in at that very moment. Her agony had only ended the next day when a very dirty and smelly Ron had flooed back into their flat, exhausted but uninjured and proud of his team's success, and held her slightly shaking body tightly in his long arms. Since then, Hermione had borne the subsequent missions with more outward equanimity, but the agonizing swirl of emotions was always there, roiling right beneath the surface - fear and anxiety, of course, but also frustration at herself for not handling it better, resentment at the determined criminal element that kept the Aurors working in the field, and even guilt for the tiny part of her that seemed to doubt Ron's ability to keep himself safe or that wished that Ron wasn't turning out to be so successful at the dangerous job that took him away from her so often.

In all honesty, when Ron was away on a mission, it reminded her painfully of the worst winter of her life, living in constant anxiety in a drafty tent, not alone but in many ways lonelier than she had ever been in a life often marked by solitude. Under the all the feelings of anger and betrayal and depression that Ron's leaving had caused was the fear that he could be in danger and there was nothing, absolutely nothing she could do about it. None of her learning or her preparation or any of the things she had always tried to contribute to their friendship could help him. In those barren months she had been overwhelmed by a sense of loss, part of which was cause by the knowledge that he could die - she could die - without ever knowing that she had loved him, without knowing what it would feel like to kiss him, to hear him say that he felt the same way. Now it was different, of course - she knew what it was to be loved by Ron, to feel the certainty that the strength of his devotion matched even hers. But that knowledge and that happiness brought it's own price. Now that their hearts and lives were intertwined in the most intimate way, the thought of losing him was inexpressibly painful. Before, she endured the fear of never experiencing the thing she most wished for; now, she feared losing what she couldn't live without. The rational part of her brain knew she was letting her heightened emotions take over her reason, intellectually understood that life had inherent risk that one had to face and accept. But something about the situation made her feel powerless in the face of her fears.

Ginny reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hands, pulling her out of her frustrated ruminations. "Hermione, you're not being stupid. But if you're asking me how not to worry about Harry and Ron while they're out on Auror business, I think you and I both know there's no real solution to that. We love them, we want them to be safe - we'll always worry. I reckon that's what really comes with the territory of being with an Auror," she said wryly.

"But I can tell you how I deal with it," she continued. "I schedule lots of practices. I train hard. I brainstorm new plays and read up on my opponents. I keep busy! That's what helps me, and I bet it would help you, too. That's what you need - something to keep you busy." She leaned back in her chair and regarded Hermione appraisingly, who was taking a sip of her butterbeer. "Have you considered letting that brother of mine knock you up?"

Hermione immediately choked on her drink. As she coughed, her burning eyes frantically searched the room for anyone who might have overheard the phrase "knocked up" being used in conjunction in any way with an as-yet very unmarried Hermione Granger. "Ginny!" she hissed as she scanned the nearby patrons. "I'm only twenty-one! And not even married yet! And you know I want to be a little more established at the ministry before..."

Her gaze finally fell back on of her friend, whose smirk was clearly suppressing a laugh with some difficulty. Hermione's mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed as she realized that Ginny was having her on. Well. Two could play that game.

Hermione let her face relax into a sweet smile. "Ginny, you know I want Ron all to myself for a little while yet. So I'm always very careful to cast the contraception charm every time. In fact," she lowered her voice and adopted what she hoped was a suggestive tone, "sometimes I cast it twice, just in case. Your brother has so much stamina, and sometimes, he..."

Ginny, whose face had been slowly registering more and more horror as Hermione went on, finally waved her hands in front of her face as if to physically defend her mind from any unwanted images. "Eurgh, enough, enough! Stop! I don't want to hear another word!" she cried. Hermione giggled as Ginny pretended to retch into her purse. "That. Is. Disgusting!"

"You started it," Hermione stated simply, secretly glad she had elicited the expected reaction when she did. She was pretty sure she wouldn't have had the nerve to say anything more.

"_Anyway_," Ginny said exaggeratedly, still sporting a look of extreme disgust, "I meant what I said before. You need something to keep you busy. And not just a mindless distraction - something you really care about." She thought for a moment. "What about a new job? You were telling us at Sunday dinner that you weren't that thrilled with what you're doing in Regulation of Magical Creatures anymore."

It was true, Hermione had been venting - in the gentlest terms, of course - about her work frustrations to her friends at the weekly dinner at the Burrow. Ron had been describing in graphic detail where exactly he thought her boss could go when Bill's head had burst into the fireplace with news about Fleur's second pregnancy and all hell had broken loose. In the aftermath of the exciting announcement, everyone had forgotten about Hermione's work woes, Hermione included.

"There must be something else you're interested in," Ginny encouraged helpfully.

"Well..." Hermione began slowly. "I did hear today about an opening in Magical Law Enforcement. It's a supervisory position, but it would mean actually applying the statutes I've been researching in RMC - working on cases that are actually open right now, advocating for mistreated creatures and working to pass new regulations that could positively affect countless lives and improve relations between all magical species," she explained, warming up to her topic. "But," she continued worriedly, "it's not just a step up from where I am now - it's more like one step over and _three_ steps up! I'm not sure if I'd even be considered for the position... I mean, I don't have any direct advocacy experience. I'm not sure that my CV reflects the appropriate commitment, and I wouldn't want anyone to think that I only received the position because..."

"Hermione. Hermione!" Ginny interrupted for the second time that evening. Hermione looked at her guiltily, realizing that she had been more than half-speaking to herself.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Ginny replied bluntly. "You sound pretty excited about it. So what if it's a big jump up? We both know you'd probably be brilliant at it! Any department in the Ministry would be lucky to have you, and who gives a purple pygmy puff about what anybody thinks," she said confidently. "And you never know if they'll consider you if you don't try. You should really think about it."

"Maybe I will," Hermione replied softly. She knew that Ginny was right. Just talking about the position made her feel a spark of motivation that she realized she had been missing at work lately. She also knew that a new job, however interesting and challenging, could never stop her from worrying about Ron. It was foolish to think that anything could. She loved him, she wanted him safe - she would always worry. But she trusted him as well - trusted his skill, trusted that he would always do everything in his power to return to her safe and whole. She could make her peace with that. Being with Ron, sharing a life with him - it was worth the every moment of anxiety. It was what they had fought for, after all. She could remember that and be strong. She was strong! She had been letting her thoughts get the better of her, but that stopped here. "I'll talk to Ron about it."

"Do that. He'll think it's brilliant, as long as you don't tell him it was my idea. So!" Ginny exclaimed, slapping her hands on the table. "Are we all sorted, then? All concerns met?"

"Yes," Hermione answered with a warm smile. "And thank you, Ginny. For listening to all my ridiculous worries."

Ginny grinned and shook her head understandingly. "No problem, it's all part of the Maid of Honor gig. I'll expect you to return the favor in a few months, when I'm calling off the wedding because... because..." she flapped her hand, trying to think of something suitably ludicrous, "... because I've become convinced Harry'll give our children appalling names, or something barmy like that."

Hermione laughed as she set down her empty butterbeer glass. "Will do."

"Good. Now I don't know about you, but I'd like to see that adulterous Auror of mine before it's too ungodly late." Ginny waggled her eyebrows as she rose from her seat, gathering her things. "Now, no more worrying tonight, OK?" she demanded, pointing at Hermione. "Not about work, or the wedding, or even Will and Karen. Will's a good bloke, and they're going to be fine."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, moving to stand as well. As she reached for her jacket, her eyes fell on the engagement ring sparkling on the fourth finger of her left hand. In that instant, Ron's face as he presented it to her swam in front of her eyes, his small, nervous-yet-hopeful grin stretching into an impossibly wide, ecstatic smile as she cried out her answer and threw herself into his arms. "Yes," she repeated decidedly, as she couldn't help but smile. "And Ron is an amazing man, and we're going to be _bloody brilliant_."


End file.
